Page 15 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Nine

LIAM

“ G entlemen,” I announce, clapping my hands together, “tonight’s the night! Operation Win the Bet is officially underway. Sofia won’t know what hit her.”

I pace the length of my penthouse living room, a wide smile plastered on my face. My three best friends—Alex, Diego, and Ryan—lounge on the leather sectional, eyeing me with a mix of amusement and concern.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “You seem excited. Should we be worried?”

I laugh, perhaps a touch too loudly. “Worried? Please. I’m Liam Valeur. I excel at everything, including dating.”

Diego snorts. “Yeah, for about three dates, max.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm great at dates,” I insist, straightening one of my framed degrees that hangs slightly crooked on the wall behind my desk .

Dad had laughed when I added law to my computer science degree, calling it an expensive hobby. But I'd always found learning easier than relationships.

Ryan clears his throat. “Okay, let’s focus. Tell us about Sofia and this bet.”

“She’s a pediatric nurse. We met at that speed dating event. Smart, funny, great smile. And the bet? Simple. I just need to go out with her four times until the Halloween party. That’s just a little over a month away. Piece of cake.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “A month? You? Mr. I-Have-an-Early-Meeting’ after the second date?”

“I was busy,” I protest, my smile never faltering. “I’m a CEO, remember? It’s not my fault if my schedule doesn’t always align with my dates.”

Diego snorts. “Right, because your schedule conveniently blows up the minute a woman wants more than sparkling conversation and a lobster dinner.”

I wave a hand. “Coincidence. Besides, this time it’s different. I have a bet to win.”

Ryan leans forward, all serious now. “Liam, buddy, we’ve known you for years. You’re great at first dates. Charming, attentive, hilarious.”

I smile, nodding. “Thank you, I?—”

“But the moment things get real,” Ryan continues, ignoring my grin, “you’re halfway to Timbuktu, mysteriously unreachable because of business commitments.”

“It’s called responsibility,” I reply with a casual flip of my hand.

Alex sighs. “It’s called running away , but sure, let’s go with your corporate buzzwords.”

“The point is,” Ryan interrupts, “that for someone smart enough to get multiple degrees just 'for fun,’ you're surprisingly bad at maintaining relationships that last longer than a software update cycle.”

I shake my head, my smile unwavering. “You guys are exaggerating. Name one time I’ve ‘run away’ from a relationship without a reason.”

The three of them exchange glances before simultaneously saying, “Sarah.”

“Emily,” adds Diego.

“Olivia,” chimes in Ryan.

“That investor’s daughter,” Alex remembers.

I hold up my hands. “Okay, okay. Those were all unique situations. And they weren’t my type.”

Diego groans. “Dude, no woman is ‘your type’ for longer than a weekend. Face it, you bail when things get even a little serious.”

I scoff, though there’s a tiny knot forming in my chest. “That’s absurd. I just haven’t met the right person yet. Besides, this is different. I have a plan. I’ll show Sofia an amazing time, keep things light and fun for a month, win the bet, and everyone’s happy.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “And what if you actually like her? What if you want to keep seeing her after the bet?”

A sudden tightness grips my chest as if the air in the room thinned out.

But I shrug it off, slipping into a grin.

Like her? Well, that’s the goal, right? Liking someone is good.

That’s what people do. If I like her, it means I’ve found someone worth the time.

It’ll mean she’s different from the others. Maybe this time will be different.

I straighten my shoulders, trying to lean into the thought. If only she doesn’t get boring after three dates like the rest .

A confident laugh escapes me. “Come on, liking her would just be a bonus. That’s what we’re aiming for, right? I’ve got it handled.”

The collective groan from my friends is almost comforting in its familiarity.

Over the next hour, my living room turns into some kind of warped relationship boot camp. My friends have transformed into self-proclaimed love gurus, throwing out advice as if I’m gearing up for a space mission to Mars, not four measly dates.

Alex, naturally, takes command by grabbing a sheet of paper and sketching out what can only be described as “The Liam Survival Plan.”

“First,” Alex begins, drawing a stick-figure version of me on the page, “we avoid your usual death traps. No discussing quarterly earnings. No synergy talk. And for the love of God, man, don’t say, ‘Let’s touch base later.

’” He pauses, looking at me gravely. “Women don’t touch base , Liam—they want to connect. ”

He air quotes “connect” like he’s unveiling the secrets of the universe.

Diego swipes the marker from him with a flair that would make a Broadway actor jealous.

“And if she talks about feelings,” he adds, sketching a cartoon speech bubble above stick-figure Sofia, “you nod. Don’t run an ROI analysis on her emotions, and for the love of everything holy, no cost-benefit analysis of the relationship. Got it?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t do that.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow. “Remember Olivia?”

“ She started talking about life goals,” I argue, “and I just mentioned that fiscal responsibility is a priority. ”

Diego points the marker at me like it’s a weapon. “And that’s why you’re here, single, making a bet on dates like it’s the Super Bowl.”

They move into full-on role-play mode, Diego channeling his inner Sofia with such intensity that I wonder if he’s missed his calling as an actor.

He flutters his eyelashes at me. “So, Liam,” Diego-Sofia says in a high-pitched voice, “what’s your five-year plan?”

I cross my arms and deadpan, “Well, after we IPO?—”

“Wrong!” Alex bellows, slamming his fist on the coffee table as if he’s just hit a game show buzzer. “You say something cute, like ‘Hopefully still having dinner with you.’”

“I’m not a Hallmark movie, okay? I’m not going to spout off some line about sunsets and forever.”

Diego waves his hands. “No one’s asking you to turn into Mr. Romantic Hero. But for the love of all that’s holy, can you try not to sound like you’re negotiating a merger?”

Ryan, who’s been oddly quiet, leans forward with an almost smug grin. “I’m impressed you’re ready to go out with the same woman four times. Last I checked, you bail before date four like you’re dodging jury duty.”

I shoot him a pointed look. “And you’re giving me advice, Mr. ‘Still pining for my dad’s friend’s daughter?’ You know it’s never going to happen, right?”

Ryan doesn’t even flinch. “I’m playing the long game. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah, the long game. Sure. You’re a case study for unrequited love. Maybe you should focus less on games and more on actual dating.”

Diego cuts in before Ryan can respond, scribbling on the paper now. “Okay, so the key is to survive date four and ask her to the party.”

Ryan leans back, arms crossed, giving me a knowing smirk. “So, what’s your plan when Sofia asks about your family? You gonna fake a Wi-Fi outage, or just throw a smoke bomb and vanish?”

“Look,” I say, now pacing the room. “This isn’t some high-stakes mission. It’s four dates. I’ve got this. I’ll charm her, show her a great time, keep it light, and win the bet. End of story.”

Diego taps the marker against his chin. “For a guy who has a plan for everything, you sure seem to be winging it here.”

Alex claps me on the shoulder. “Just remember the golden rule: no business-speak, no bailing, and for the love of God—compliment her eyebrows.”

I freeze. “Eyebrows?”

Diego nods. “Women love it when you notice the little things. Eyebrows are the secret. Trust me.”

“Eyebrows,” I repeat. They can’t be serious. “I’m not going to talk about her eyebrows.”

I glance at the stick-figure diagram they’ve drawn, complete with arrows pointing to various absurd scenarios like surprise feelings, eyebrow compliments, and possible emotional meltdowns. My so-called “survival plan” looks like something out of a disaster-prep manual.

I stare at them all in disbelief. “This is what you’re giving me? Compliments on eyebrows and no acquisitions in Fiji?”

Alex throws up his hands. “Hey, if it works, you’ll be thanking us at the Halloween party. ”

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right,” Diego says, capping the marker with a smug grin.

As they continue throwing out their bizarre bits of wisdom, I glance at the time. “Alright, coaching time’s over. Out, all of you. I need to focus and get ready.”

“Focus,” Ryan repeats, laughing. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”

“Go!” I shoo them toward the door, practically pushing them out.

As the door clicks shut, the silence feels like a blessing. I run a hand through my hair, turning back to the mirror. “Okay, Liam,” I mutter. “You’ve got this. It’s just a few dates. Easy.”

My fingers fumble with the cufflink, and I'm back in that dimly lit library corner.

Aleria's pulse races under my touch, her skin flushed and warm. Her teeth graze her lower lip, stifling a moan as my fingers trace forbidden paths. The scent of old books mingles with her perfume. It’s intoxicating.

The ghost of her breath whispers against my neck, and I swallow hard, tugging at my collar.

“Focus,” I growl, meeting my gaze in the mirror. But the memory lingers, a phantom touch that refuses to fade, even as I prepare for a date with someone else.

I arrive at Bella Notte at 7:28 PM, adjusting my suitcoat as I scan the sidewalk. My rehearsed greeting evaporates as I spot Sofia approaching. She’s a vision in a deep blue dress that makes her eyes sparkle like sapphires.

“Wow,” I breathe. “You look beautiful, Sofia. I feel underdressed now. Should I go home and change into my formal sweatpants?”